


Sunday morning after

by tinsnip



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Swap, Dialogue, Gen, and continues to do so!, because the concept amused me, mostly silly nonsense, the sunday morning after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 12:06:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/pseuds/tinsnip
Summary: “DearLord—”“Hell’sbells—”A pause of mutually aghast assessment.“Well, would you look at that.”Putting on each other's bodies to fool Head Office is a great idea. Actually doing it...weird.





	Sunday morning after

**Author's Note:**

> This nonsense was inspired by Amanda Marshall's "Sunday Morning After".

  
_oh my god! (i woke up with a snake tattoo)_  
_oh my god! (and i think that my tongue’s pierced, too)_  
_oh my god, oh my god: it’s the sunday morning after,_  
_and baby, who the hell are you?_

* * *

“Dear _Lord—”_

“Hell’s _bells—”_

A pause of mutually aghast assessment.

“Well, would you look at that.”

“Oh, that’s weird. That’s really weird. Your face—”

“What about it?”

“It’s... it’s _my_ face. But doing the things _your_ face, uh... does.”

“Seeing you distort my features beyond recognition isn’t particularly pleasant for me, either.”

“Aw, poor angel. Is he an ickle bit put out?”

“Oh! That’s extremely disconcerting. Please don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t... please don’t use that tone while you're in my body. Or make that _face_.”

“Wha— how else would I talk?”

“I’m not sure, but certainly you could be a bit more cultured... is my head supposed to hurt this much? My left eyebrow is absolutely cramping—”

“Cultured? Cultured! Believe me, angel, anywhere you’ve been, I’ve been twice, and as for heads, look, cramming myself into this tiny little skull isn’t remotely comfortable—”

“Tiny little skull! Really!”

“Barely got any room for brains. It’s all hair, isn’t it, making it look big? It’s all floof!”

“Oh, I hardly think you have any room to criticize.”

“My hair’s shorter than yours!”

“For once. And yet you’ve managed to make sure that it sticks straight up. Heavens, my _scalp_ hurts—”

“Oh!”

“—what?”

“Quit rubbing your— my— quit rubbing at the temples and let me see... is that what my snake looks like! Here, hold still—”

“Crowley! Stop it! Let go of my—”

“—no, just turn and look that way—oh, look at that, that’s quite cunning, isn’t it— _oi!”_

“I _told_ you to let go—”

“There’s no call for _fangs,_ you don’t just whip those out, that’s not for every day!”

“Ha ha! There you are, then. Not to be trifled with, no matter my form. Ah. I... I can’t— I can’t theem to put them away—”

“Oh, no, you can’t walk around like that. That’s _embarrassing_.”

“I athure you that ithn’t my plan—”

“Look, just... yeah, you can kind of press them with your finger if you have to... yeah, there they go.”

“Ech. How unpleasant.”

“No need to make that face, they’re bloody useful when you want them.”

“Would you _please_ stop cursing.”

“Bloody’s not much of a curse.”

“It is in _my_ mouth. Please don’t pollute my corporation any more than you must—”

“Pollute? Really!”

“You’ll no doubt teach it all kinds of bad habits.”

“Oh, certainly, my very best demonic instruction. Speaking of which... I could really do with a cigarette—”

_“No!”_

“Ah? You sure I can’t tempt you to a smoke?”

“Do _not_ put nicotine into my body, I’ve only _just_ managed to kick it again—”

“Be nice, then.”

“Hmph.”

Another pause. This time, faces are made, lips are smacked, and tongues are waggled about unbecomingly. A mirror is employed. Two faces look into it, not quite believing what they see.

“Crowley, I must ask: how _do_ you manage to talk with this thing in your mouth?”

“What...? What thing? Don’t tell me you’ve got the fangs out again—”

“Ih hing. ‘ight here.”

“...angel, I don’t _have_ a tongue piercing.”

“...ah. I’m afraid you do now.”

“Where did you get that— why did you think—”

“It’s a reasonable assumption. So many of the humans seem to have them now - and honestly, you’re always wiggling it about—”

“I’m a _snake,_ sometimes I put my tongue out, it’s _natural._ A tongue stud, good God - _uuulgh!_ ”

“Are you all right?”

“Oh, that was awful, what a taste, dear Lord - _uck!”_

“You are very definitely not all right.”

“That’s disgusting! This body can’t _swear!_ Every time I try to swear I say something... something _holy!”_

“Ah. Ah ha ha. You see, I keep my vessel pure.”

“Urgh, my mouth tastes terrible!”

“Sin always brings spiritual discomfort.”

“Oh, swearing isn’t a sin.”

“Perhaps not. It appears, however, that my body has its own feelings on the matter.”

“Shhhh... no. P— p— _drat_ it. _Fuck._ Oh. Wait. That one works. Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Crowley! Stop it!”

“Now I wonder why that one works, Aziraphale? Fuckity fuckity fuckadoo.”

“Oh, please, _do_ stop, I really can’t handle this—”

“You think I like it?”

“At the moment? I do think you’re enjoying it quite a bit, yes.”

“All right. At the moment, yes. But let’s get this over with and switch back as quick as possible, yeah?”

“I agree _wholeheartedly.”_

"Right."

"Right."

"...might keep the piercing, though, actually.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering why Aziraphale's so concerned about nicotine, do check out [Bad Habits](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18612466).


End file.
